Nightmares Under The Stairs
by Phoenix Down1
Summary: The publication of lyrics to the only Vincent Valentine album.
1. Nightmares Under the Stairs

Introduction  
  
Way back a few months ago, I wrote "[Nightmares and Nocturnes], an autobiography of Vincent Valentine," in it, are two complete original songs I wrote specifically for the fanfiction. The other day when I was writing songs for myself, I thought, well, what the heck, I'd take those two songs and make them real. They are mine; anyway, I can do what I want with them.  
  
They aren't, you know,  
  
Bad.  
  
Well, then, the idea sparked. "Let's make MORE!"  
Here the album that Vincent Valentine WOULD has produced if he didn't have the handicap of not existing in the real world. No, I take that back, he exists, but only in the land of ideas.  
  
I don't know about you, but that's real enough for me. As a writer, I have a lot of friends from there.  
  
ABOUT THE ALBUM  
"Nightmares Under the Stairs" was originally produced by Phoenix Down Records in 1984, but went out of print in 1986. Only 500 copies were ever produced. The album consists of eight original songs by Vincent Valentine that have been classified as 'folk rock.' His first hit single is of the same name as his one and only album.   
Here are the titles on this record:  
1. "Silly Little Song"  
2. "Mr. McGregor"  
3. "The Most Beautiful Thing To Me"  
4. "Life Tree"  
5. "Don't Tell Me"  
6. "Raggedy Ann"  
7. "Sugar Window 66"  
8. "Nightmares Under The Stairs"  
  
The album was not just a cornerstone for folk music, but also was well known for it's original album cover graphics; the graphics on the cover consisted of a black and white profile picture of Vincent, and a long, spiraling staircase behind him. Upon Vincent's skin is artistically indented the album cover name. Vincent later commented on the album cover shoot, "The paint on my face really, really itched. But it was for the album cover, so, that's all that was important to me. Gregory Ian is a photographer genius."  
But of course it wasn't just pictures that made his music well known to people. His trademark was his haunting, original sound, and his sad lamenting tunes. Often in his music there would be pauses of heavy, labored breathing that gave his music a chilling, nightmarish, horrific, but beautiful- style. His ability to tell a story in his lyrics made the album unforgettable.  
Vincent Valentine also commented about the album:  
"Nightmares Under the Stairs is probably the only thing I accomplished that is worth while in my life. Everything else has been a failure. It's a dark album- everything about it is dark. Something's may seem funny in it- but it's not. Not really. Maybe it's irony, I don't know. I'm glad that there weren't many printings of it. I have a copy, but I never ever listen to it. Is it a collectors item yet?"  
  
So, without further ado, here are the lyrics to the one and only Vincent Valentine album.  
  
  
~PD  
  
  
  
Nightmares Under the Stairs.   
Phoenix Down Records  
Copyright 2002  
  
  
"Silly Little Song."  
(With a classical guitar)  
[Originally published with '[Nightmares and Nocturnes] an autobiography of Vincent Valentine.'  
  
I never had a nightmare so beautiful before.  
She came into my dreams through the open window and door.  
I told myself, I told myself that I wasn't worthy for her any more,  
  
Silly, silly little fucker.  
Silly, silly little lover.  
  
I love her, but I love the silence, too.  
I'll promise that these fears will stop, and instead I'll dream of you.  
Open up these closed up doors and let the people in.  
Maybe freedom is when you're a slave.  
  
It's freedom from freedom, when you live in a cave...  
I've never had a dream so ugly before...  
  
She came in through the window, she came in through the sea,  
I told myself she didn't need me.  
  
Silly, silly little blood drop.  
Silly, silly little angry cop.  
  
I love the nightmares, but I love the silence, too.  
I can't promise that I won't stop, and instead I'll kill you.  
  
Open up these closed up minds and let the people come round.  
Maybe violence under these shadowed city plates,  
Is liberty when you don't know how to leave the city  
  
Tell me where,  
The freedom fares,  
And I'll tell you to sleep,  
And enter my nightmare.  
  
  
  
"Mr. McGregor"  
  
(Played with acoustic guitar only)  
  
He didn't know,  
What the feel of snow,  
Was like under his fingertips.  
  
Oh, Mr. McGregor, man,   
Didn't you ever see?  
What life was like before you met   
Your wife to be?  
  
It's ten thirty, Mr. McGregor,  
And your wife is yelling,  
"Honey, close the door,   
Your letting the home out."  
Oh, oh, out.  
  
It's eleven thirty, Mr. McGregor,  
And your in your car, so nice,  
Trying to become free  
Didn't you want to feel that ice,  
With or without me?  
  
How far will you go,  
To find the world of ice and snow?  
How far will you go, Mr. McGregor,  
To the Ends of the Earth?  
  
There you have it,  
There you have finally made it,  
Underneath the snow and ice we find thee,  
Far away from me.  
  
Oh, poor, poor Mr. McGregor,  
Trying to run from his wife.  
Or was it really the life  
That frightened you so bad.  
  
It's the sort of life,  
That freezes you ill  
To bad the snow and ice,  
Will kill you still.  
  
  
  
  
  
"The most Beautiful Thing to Me."  
(With classical guitar. Piano optional.)  
[As published with '[Nightmares and Nocturnes], an autobiography of Vincent Valentine.]  
  
The most beautiful thing to me,  
Can be described metaphorically,  
  
I wonder at first if she has ever seen,  
A great and wandering rooted tree,  
  
Whose treetops waved, and whose fruit was not lean,  
With a saffron sun overhead,  
  
And yellow light on the fallen leaf bed.  
The most beautiful thing to me,  
  
It can only be,  
Described metaphorically.  
  
I wonder if my love has ever seen,  
A great and prosperous city.  
  
It's lights would be like winking stars,  
Musical people and car.  
  
Oh, how lovely the smells are.  
The most beautiful thing to me,  
  
It can only be described truthfully.  
I wonder at first if she has ever seen,  
  
Her beautiful face in a looking glass.  
That is the most beautiful thing to me.  
  
  
"Life Tree"  
(Piano and classical guitar)  
  
She wondered where my mind was going  
She wondered where my mind had been  
She wondered if I really was that empty  
  
Empty, empty as a open window  
'Teach me to plant a tree,  
One whose branch can hold me  
Teach me how to fly  
I want to bathe in the sky.'  
  
She told me, she told me once before  
I told her that I couldn't show her anything anymore  
  
She wondered where my heart was going  
She wondered where my head was going.  
  
Life, tree, life tree,  
Plant your roots in the clouds.  
Life tree, life tree,  
Let me eat your fruit   
And  
Let my mind scream loud.  
  
Empty as an open window.  
Empty as an open window.  
  
Empty as an open window.  
  
  
  
"Don't Tell Me"  
(With piano and classical guitar accompaniment)  
  
This crazy, crazy world keeps on spinning, spinning, spinning,  
The runners keep winning,  
And I am only left here to keep living, living, living  
You tell me to be true,   
You tell me not to,  
Paint my soul so blue  
  
But let me tell you...  
  
Don't tell me not to feel sad.  
Don't tell me not to get mad.  
Don't tell me what to choose,  
I already know I'm going to loose.  
  
Did you hear that, rat, tat, tat,  
I think that was god at the door.  
He told me not to drink myself onto the floor  
All I can ever be, sweetie,  
Is be me.  
  
Let me tell you,  
It wasn't me whom painted my soul blue.  
  
Don't tell me not to die  
Don't tell me not to cry  
Don't tell me how to ... paint my soul so blue.  
I was really colored red  
  
That's really what I said!  
That is just me,  
I can not apologize  
For the way I have to be!  
  
Don't tell how to feel  
Don't tell me what Is real!  
Don't tell me how to love,  
Because I already know.  
  
  
"Raggedy Ann"  
(To be sung in a horse, soft whisper and light classical guitar accompaniment)  
  
Lovely doll.  
  
I saw you staring at me.  
  
Let me hear you speak.  
  
Your mouth sown.  
  
I will love you.  
  
For, I, too, am a toy,  
  
Lovely doll.  
  
For infinity you have been posing,  
  
With a cloth grin,  
  
And black button eyes,  
  
Red rosy cheeks.  
  
Sweet, sweet... sweet...  
  
Fucking doll.  
  
I will love you.  
  
The shadows hold you,  
  
The little girl forgot you under  
  
The bed she now makes love on.  
  
Sweet doll,  
  
Let me make love to you.  
  
Dust.  
  
I am a doll,  
  
Little girl,  
  
I am your doll.  
  
  
"Sugar Window 66"  
(Classical guitar, drums optional. To be sung at a very fast tempo.)  
  
Bubble gum fingertips  
Clock, wild, sway hips  
  
I've never seen anything so dumb  
Let me find you under the burning sun  
  
Crisis horde  
Jingle jam door  
  
Sugar window opens wide... wide... wide.  
  
We are all looking for places to hide  
We are all  
We are all searching for a place to be  
We are all  
We are all you and me.  
  
Tick top tipster  
Looking for a place to kiss her  
  
Paranoia Pandora  
Palindrome mom  
  
Let me find you acting crazy  
We are all looking to be someone  
  
We are all  
We are all searching our pockets for an empty heart  
We are all  
We are all you and I.  
  
  
"Nightmares Under The Stairs"  
(Light, quiet classical guitar. Soft singing in broken heavy breathing- light whispering.)  
[Vincent Valentine's first hit single released in 1983. Phoenix Down records, all rights reserved.]  
  
*Heavy, labored breathing*  
  
Look around you.  
  
I said, I said look around you  
  
The dark  
  
Is not so far  
  
From where you are  
  
Say hello,   
  
hello!   
  
Hello!  
  
Hello to the darkness.  
  
To what stares  
  
Beneath the stairs  
  
That spiral  
  
Down  
  
To the basement ground,  
  
That's where I am.  
  
That's where I am.  
  
*Heavy labored breathing, light guitar playing*  
  
See this song,  
  
This day is gone,  
  
And so am I.  
  
Is what you are,  
  
Beneath the star,  
  
Say what you mean,  
  
And mean what you say.  
  
Someday, everyone will pay.  
  
Underneath the stairs,  
  
It came today  
  
A rainy day  
  
The day that I died.  
  
The day that my soul flied.  
  
Fly away,  
  
Come fly away  
  
Into the sun and day  
  
Fly away,  
  
Fly,  
  
Away.  
  
Fly.  
  
*Broken breathing*  
  
Fly away,  
  
Die away,  
  
Come fly away down  
  
Come fly away down  
  
Beneath the stairs  
  
Down.  
  
That's where I am  
That's where I am  
That's where I am  
  
Down. 


	2. The Man Who Wept Blood

...MORE ABOUT THE ALBUM  
  
There were several reasons why "Nightmares Under the Stairs," (despite it's innovative folk rock sound and well written lyrics) never sold well. Simply put, the sales/marketing manager at Phoenix Down records had no idea how to market the album. It was not quite rock, and it was not quite folk- who exactly was the audience that it was targeted at?  
When asked for an interview, Candice Roddick, the marketing/sales manager for the Vincent Valentine album was more than cooperative.  
  
"Oh, yeah, I remember Vincent. He was really nice, really quiet, though. He was insistent that everything was simple. No backup band. Only guitar, his vocals, and a little piano. Even for "Sugar Window 66" which really NEEDED some drums. Well, anyway, we had no clue what to do with him. Sure, there was A TON of potential, I mean, if we knew what audience his sound was targeted at, he could have been a rich man by now. But, I mean, rock and folk are two totally different marketing groups. What exactly was I supposed to do? Then we found those uhm, 'lost tracks'.   
"After he vanished, we got a whole new album. There was a small Vincent following, and this album is for them. People who really know their music. The sound quality is poor, at best, even with digital remastering. But someone dug up these songs on audiotapes from the basement. These are the songs that Vincent wrote while living like a vampire that no one has heard before, and that he never brought into the studio. He's really, really good.   
I mean, and then he went on the Conan O'Brien show. That's a legend, you know. Nobody but god, Conan, and Vincent knows if that actually happened. Heard he stormed off the set and everything. I wish that I could have seen that show."  
  
Vincent's second album of missing and lost tracks came out in 1990 and, expectedly, sold poorly due to bad marketing. The album was released well after Vincent seemed to have mysteriously faded into obscurity. The album was titled after it's strongest track, "The Man Who Wept Blood."   
  
"The Man Who Wept Blood" is a brilliant composition consisting of classical guitar rifts, strong vocals, and an excellent story; the story is about a man who is traveling to the land of the dead, realizing that heaven, hell, and Earth are all one place. In it, we also hear a slight echoing, possibly because it could have been recorded using a primitive cassette audiotape in the basement of the Shin-Ra mansion.  
  
Other songs on the compilation include:  
2. "The War of Wutai"  
3. "Vampire in My Mind"  
4. "Me, you, and a Mild Mannered Man"  
5. "Things Behind the Moon."  
6. "Nocturnes and Nightmares"  
7. "This is What it Feels"  
8. "Creatures in the Dark"  
  
The album cover was designed by the same photographer who did the photo for "Nightmares Under the Stairs"; Gregory Ian. It depicts an old photograph that Ian took for the first album, but was never printed. It is of Vincent, cowering and despairing in the corner with his hands over his face, and looking very, vary small in relation to the rest of the dark background.  
"I almost put that picture on his first album, but then, I thought, nah. I got a better idea for it. Then, somebody found those other songs. Phoenix Down records wanted to produce it and wanted me to do the cover for it because I did the last one. But, Valentine wasn't around for another photo shoot, so, I just had to pull out an old picture of him I took a while ago. Good thing I kept them."  
  
Without further introduction, here are the lyrics to the lost songs of the Vincent Valentine record.  
  
~PD  
  
  
The Man Who Wept Blood  
  
(Classical guitar)  
  
*Long introduction solo. Soft, quiet, like a stream*  
  
  
When the world was one,  
And the day long gone,  
  
I walked away,  
Into nights early stay.  
  
I took a long boat ride,  
I felt a quiet song inside,  
Sometimes we all have to hide.  
  
Charon said to me,  
"Goin' down I see?"  
"No, no, I am just setting myself free."  
I replied quietly.  
  
I paid the boatman two copper pieces  
His eyes were two black recesses  
And his smile swam the deepest seas  
I knew he was the kind of man, who never paid heed,  
To the loudest pleas  
  
*Guitar solo*  
  
When I reached the world below,  
I knew that this was the lowest that I could go.  
Hills, plains, and valleys,  
Plateaus, mountains, and gullies,  
Islands, lagoons, and forests  
  
Nothing more than open-ended air.  
Not even Death is fair.  
  
When I looked around,  
Up and down,  
  
I realized that even here I was alone,  
And this landscape I could not condone.  
  
I thought that hell was a crowded place  
But the truth I cannot face  
  
That this place is the truest pain,  
That human kind is all one man,  
Sunshine, moon, and rain,  
And so I ran.  
  
In this darkened, cold, realm,  
I wanted to find my god,  
But instead I found my deepest fear,  
That everything far and near,   
  
Was nothing more,  
Than the deepest part of my soul  
That this hell that came to me   
Is something that I could control  
  
And that not even the boatman could hear my plea  
That this fluid from my eyes,  
Weeping from all my cries,  
Were not tears at all  
  
But blood. And so it is here I fall,  
Not into hell, but heaven,  
Resting in peace and blue... blue... blue...  
  
Blue. This world is blue and together  
With me and with you it is beautiful  
And it is true,  
That both the world below and the world above  
  
Join hands and become what we know to be our wild Earth.  
  
*Guitar solo*  
  
Wild Earth, how we love you.  
Wild Earth, I cry blood so blue.  
Wild Earth, how we long for it to be true.  
Wild Earth, we need a clue.  
  
Wild Earth, wild Earth, wild Earth.  
  
  
"The War of Wutai"  
(Classical guitar only)  
  
Battered,  
Beaten,   
Broken,  
  
Death has taken another man's token  
Why is it when we die  
Do we have to fall back   
And lie?  
Why is it when we bleed and stare into the sky,  
Do we watch out lives fly by?  
  
Maybe war tells us one thing,  
That life is just a game of hunting,  
And the price of our lives,  
Is just the two cents we pay,  
When we bleed and lay,  
  
Out there.  
  
*Guitar solo*  
  
I knew a boy once who was called into battle.  
He had a strong heart,  
That in his chest would rattle,  
When the shots rang out.  
  
He had a girlfriend living at home,  
Who was with child,  
When she thought of him, she felt so alone,  
War, her soul defiled.  
  
When a letter slapped to her door,  
I doubt she could take it anymore.  
  
Johnny, Johnny is dead.  
Whaoh, oh, Little Johnny is dead.  
Please tell me this is all in my head,  
Johnny is dead.  
  
She went upstairs,  
All of her woes, all of her cares,  
Her freedom fares,  
Got all strung up with a shower curtain noose.  
  
Something had to get let loose,  
And this war rules with an iron fist.  
Do when know when we enlist,  
That the scars left over,  
Are worse than the ghosts that roam over?  
  
Badly beaten,   
Blood stained grass,  
Hundreds of white crosses,  
  
They are all dead,  
The ghosts whisper softly.  
They are all dead, they are all dead,  
They are all dead, they are all dead.  
Whoah, Johnny, Donny, Jan, and Sue,  
Lilly, Joseph, and me and you,  
  
All dead.  
  
  
  
  
"Vampire in My Mind"  
(Classical guitar only)  
  
*Raspy, heavy breathing*  
  
Something wicked this way comes.  
Can you feel it?  
  
*Guitar solo*  
See me daunting so fine.  
See me playing your heart.  
See me dating the night.  
Blood red, fine wine.  
Hunting the local mart.  
Recoiling from the light.  
  
The beat in my chest,  
Has long stopped and rest.  
Now it's all a matter of survival,  
Smoked, choked, oil slicked, reprisal.  
  
*Change in key, Light guitar playing, as if flying*   
  
We... could... have been... beautiful.  
  
We... could have been so... alive.  
  
We... we are nothing more than animals.  
  
We...   
  
You.  
  
And.  
  
Me.  
  
*Key changed back to the dark, fast paced melody.*  
  
Something deadly this way comes.  
Can you smell it?  
  
See me drastically changing.  
See the chaos quickly rearranging.  
See me feeding.  
See me badly needing.  
  
And then, the sun comes.  
And then, I cry.  
And then, and then, and then,  
  
I stop.  
  
  
  
"Me, You, and a Mild Mannered Man"  
(Classical guitar)  
  
Rainy, rainy days,  
In the streets of Midgar,  
I've never seen the sun rays,  
Only concrete, oil and black tar.  
  
We walked under the street lamps,  
Hand in hand,  
Gangstas, pimps, and tramps  
We watched a dirty pigeon land.  
  
We got on the bus,  
I wonder what's all the fuss,  
When we got on the bus?  
There was the oddest sight to see,  
Right there before you and me.  
  
Mild mannered man,  
Where did you come from?  
Mild mannered man,  
Do you know where you are?  
Mild mannered man,  
Go back to where you come.  
Mild mannered man,  
You must have come far.  
  
Ordinary people now-a-days,  
Are not so ordinary at all.  
In this city only devil plays,  
Skyscrapers, highways, and a million mile mall.  
Mild mannered man,  
I recommend you up and ran,  
  
Go back to the hills,   
Go back to the farm.  
The city swallows and kills.  
Everyone only means you harm.  
  
Mild mannered man,  
You are unique in your boring life,  
Mild mannered man,  
Take your children and your wife.  
Mild mannered man,  
They will kill you with money, drugs, and a knife  
  
Mild mannered man,  
Oh, mild mannered man.  
  
Did you see their eyes?  
Did you hear their lies?  
Oh, mild mannered man,  
Go to where you can see the skies,  
  
Rainy days,  
They will come and go,  
Oh,  
Mild mannered man.  
Lets go find the sun rays.  
  
  
"Things Behind the Moon"  
(Classical guitar)  
  
  
Magical men,  
Dance around the river bend  
And women make merry,  
With the children they carry  
  
Oh, I've never seen a finer life,  
Lived out with light and without strife.  
Oh, look at them go.  
Oh, look at them come and go.  
  
Maybe I can be one of them  
If it I wasn't the kind they condemn  
Maybe the government will save   
Maybe.  
  
But I know that I am not the only one  
Who doesn't dance and doesn't have fun  
The things behind the moon do hide  
And to them I sympathize and confide  
  
There are those in the tribe,  
Who step out of the light and give the vibe  
That they have eaten the fruit of knowledge  
And learned something you can't learn in college  
  
That everything, she he and it,  
Sometimes do not commit  
To what is called 'the good side'  
And that the moon sometimes brings in more than the tide  
  
And these sad children of the darkness  
Do know what it is like to live in bliss  
But it is nothing like you have ever felt  
It is like when you begin to bleed and your skin begins to melt  
  
And your heart beings to rot   
Your bones die and can't find a spot  
To lay down and rest.  
Oh, I detest  
  
Misunderstandings  
So don't pity me,  
I don't want your plea  
Just let me be  
  
And I don't lie,  
So look into my eye  
And I'll tell you to die  
If you won't leave  
We are not naive.  
  
I am he the one who plays  
And it is in my home my soul stays  
And under the moon and night  
I will find my house and light  
  
  
"Nightmares and Nocturnes"  
(Classical guitar)  
  
**The Vincent Valentine theme. Long, soft, guitar solo with no lyrics**   
  
  
"This is What it Feels"  
(Classical guitar)  
  
Jack knife, stabbing into my eye  
Bleeding down down the River Quai  
Toe nail clippings  
Razor blade chippings  
Rusty steel claw  
  
All hanging... limply.  
  
Red eyed, red room  
Witch flying broom  
While the flowers bloom  
The couple in the next room  
Make sounds go boom, boom, boom  
  
Silent baby, crazy mother  
Rusty chain-saw  
Accident drowning  
Bloody massacre  
No suicide note.  
  
Nothing is real  
This is how I feel  
And this sanity  
Oh the humanity!  
  
Bat wings,  
Break up stings  
Play your sadness on the strings  
And hope that it all passes  
Don't follow the masses  
  
Hey, hey, hey hey  
None of this is going to stay  
Let's hope that job pays  
More than your allowance  
Beg on the street corner for another six pence  
  
Lets all hope this ends  
Digging, finding, wits rend  
Laugh like the mad hatter  
Anything the matter?  
  
No. This is how I feel.  
All of it is real  
My emotions eat a meal  
Upon the redness of my spirit  
I feel it. I feel it. I feel it.  
  
"Creatures in the Dark"  
(Classical Guitar)  
  
Down in the graveyard  
Three witches were making a brew  
Green bubbles, smelly stew,  
Eye of knewt, heart of pig, human lard  
  
"Bubble bubble toil and trouble  
Summon the creatures, on the double!  
Mummies, werewolves, vampires, too  
Centaurs, minotaurs, evil so true!"  
  
And out came from the pot  
Two by two  
Soon it was a monster zoo.  
The centaurs galloped, the zombies rot  
  
The witches waited until all came out  
The third witch noticed something in her pot  
Of which the other two witches did not  
Another creature was going to come about  
  
Inside the cauldron so black and stinky  
Was a monster that was the most horrifying of all  
The creature hat a red pointed hat so tall  
The monster named itself, "Pinky."  
  
Inside the pot was a gnome  
The witches were frightened,  
The centaurs guard were heightened  
The vampires begged to go home  
  
The gnome was of the lawn type  
With a beard that went down to his feet  
It spoke with a voice like soft peat.  
All the horrible creatures fear became ripe  
  
For you see, the most horrifying thing of all  
Isn't a thing that drools,   
Like goblins, witches, and ghouls  
But a lawn gnome with a mating call. 


	3. Vincent on the Conan O'Brien Show

Vincent on Conan O'Brien  
  
  
  
Vincent requested an interview with journalist and story teller, Phoenix Down. In his own words, he just wished to, "Clear things up about what really happened."  
  
So, I am here today with video game character, Vincent Valentine.  
  
PD: How are you doing today, Mr. Valentine?  
  
VV: Can we just get started?  
  
PD: Sure. Tell us about what happened, in your own words.  
  
VV: Mr. O'Brien's producers called up my manager. It sort of was a routine thing. My manager was going nuts because I never wanted to go on tour when the album came out. This was all before...--sigh-before the Hojo incident. When my arm was still good.  
  
PD: What did your manager tell you?  
  
VV: My manager thought me getting on the show would get me good publicity. I didn't want to do it. I was, quite frankly, afraid to go on television. I thought I wasn't good looking enough. Then, I saw Conan's show, and then saw that you didn't have to be good looking to be on TV. Well, my manager asked me to play the single. I told her I would, but, I didn't.  
Well, we got to the studio, and most of the time I was backstage trying not to vomit. I'm not sure who the other guests were on that particular show. I mostly kept to myself. Uhm. Then I met Joel.  
  
PD: Conan's announcer, Joel?  
  
VV: Yeah. That's the guy. He wouldn't stop grimacing, like an idiot. He really... really scared the s*** out of me.  
  
PD: Sorry. We had to bleap you. This is nationally syndicated.   
  
VV: It's all right. I didn't mean to-it's just that. Joel. He gives me the creeps...  
  
PD: I understand. Do go on.  
  
VV: ---Sighs, and re-adjusts himself in the red chair-Like I said, I was practicing the song I had planned on playing backstage, then, on a commercial break Conan comes out. He's a big guy, you know. Much taller in real life than you would expect. He comes out, and asks me to sign his album. Says he's a fan of folk rock. I didn't reply, only signed his album. Then, he asks me if it was all right if I was in a bit. I said that I'd preferred to be interviewed than be in a comedy skit. He's says that's fine, then he asks me what I'd like to talk about on the show. I just shrugged.  
  
PD: Uh huh. Then, your turn came to play.  
  
VV: Right. I got my guitar ready. He announced me. I went out and played this. Now, mind you, the big stink at the Record company was that this song isn't on the album that I was supposed to be plugging, nor was it on the record that I recently found out came out years after I left the business. I played this song.  
  
Red White and Reefer  
(A Vincent Valentine original. Nor released on any record. Classical guitar)  
  
Smoky tunes,  
Birthday balloons,  
No reason to run,  
We just have a little fun,   
Under the midnight moon.  
  
I think I fell in love,  
All over again  
Daisy crowns,  
Upside down frowns  
It's 1967,  
And I think that I am in heaven.  
  
What's so wrong,  
About singing a little song,  
About that little wooden bong?  
It don't hurt no one,  
It's just innocent fun.  
  
--Vincent smiles to himself and to Phoenix. What could be a chuckle passes his lips. He plays on--  
  
No, father,  
No mother,  
This isn't a habit  
I haven't done anything,  
Like followed the little white rabbit.  
I am just having fun,  
With my friend's- and we are almost done.  
Under the midnight moon,  
Holding hands, it ends too soon.  
Daisy chain.  
I hope it doesn't rain.  
  
What's so wrong,  
With hitting this bong,  
...It never takes very long.  
  
--Vincent ends the song with a soft harmonica solo. He stops. Phoenix claps.  
  
PD: This song is way different from your others.  
  
VV: That's why it never went over with everyone very well. I have the freedom to write whatever I want- about what I want. I've smoked weed before. Never very much, and never very often, but that's when I was younger. And for the record, I DID inhale. I haven't met anyone who hasn't done anything in their whole life. This song was meant to be played with a guitar, but, for obvious reasons, I can't play the guitar anymore. ---Holds up his claw. Phoenix nods.---  
  
PD: After you finished playing, there was supposed to be a mini interview, wasn't there?  
  
VV: Yes. This is where everyone gets a little mixed up I think. I DID storm off the set. I DID get a little pissed off at Conan.   
  
PD: Tell us what happened.  
  
VV: --Pauses, looks at the tape recorder, then back to Phoenix.-He... He. Shook my hand after I finished playing. I sat down. He looks at me and goes, "Thanks. That was great, that was wonderful. Now, they call the music you play folk, right, just because it's just you and guitar, right?"  
"Right. But. It's not really folk. Maybe it is. I don't know. Call it what you will. It's just me and my guitar."  
"But most folk artists play with acoustic guitars, you don't do you?"  
"No, Conan. I play a classical guitar. It sounds a little different, a little softer- delicate."  
"Classical guitar, that's like, old fashioned, isn't it? You like a little classical music do you? You know, I was driving the other day, and this old lady next to me was blasting classical guitar music out of her window. She must have been like, 70, and driving a big old Cadilac. It's really funny because usually you see people blasting like, hip-hop out of their window and they are DRIVING like, at about 70... jut a little reversed isn't it?"  
"I guess."  
  
"Your not really talkative, are you?"  
I shrugged, "Only when I have to be."  
  
"I bet your one of the strong and silent types. You know, they get all the ladies. Not like the big talk, pasty pale, red heads like me." -Conan turns and looks at the screen. He chuckles. "I'm getting a little off-track here, eh? What was the weirdest encounter you ever had with a fan?"  
  
"Actually, Conan, most of my fans are really nice people. Sometimes they line up in quiet, strait lines, and ask for an autograph. No pushing, or anything. It's actually really amazing. I guess that's the audience that listens to me."  
  
"Yeah, not like our viewers. Most of them are college students pumped with caffeine and other drugs-uhm, --clears throat-well, uh, now, for the whole three people that are left watching, uhm, heh, tell us about your family, Vincent, where is your home, where did you grow up?"  
  
"I grew up on the upper-plate of Midgar. I, actually, currently live in lower Midgar."  
  
"Boy, you really are movin' up in the world, eh?"  
  
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, seriously, maybe a little too seriously, now that I look back on it.  
  
"Well, I just mean, first your up in a upper-class, then down in the dregs of society, I mean...Boy, I can't get out of this one, can I? Heh heh."  
  
"I really resent you calling the people of Midgar, 'dregs,' Conan."  
  
"Well, it's no matter, that's probably most of our viewers anyway."  
  
At that point I didn't see that he was kidding, and I got up right then and there, and left. I realize now that it was stupid and blown way out of proportion, but, that's the way it happened.  
  
PD: So, you stormed right out of the studio?  
  
VV: Yes. My record producers were really upset that I didn't even get to plug, 'Nightmares Under the Stairs' while I was there. The marketing manager, (she's a real tart) had a field day chewing me out.   
  
PD: Tell me about, 'The Man Who Wept Blood.' I heard that you didn't even had a hand at compolating it.  
  
VV: Some kid broke into the Shin-Ra basement and stole a audio tape from me that had all my songs on it and sold it to the Record company for a sack full of money that I haven't seen a dime of still to this day. That's exactly what happened.  
  
PD: How could you not have seen a dime of it? That was your intellectual property.  
  
VV: Record companies are a real sick business. They thought I was dead because I was sleeping in the Shin-Ra basement in a coffin.  
  
PD: Yeah. Uh. They must be real crazy to think you were dead if you were sleeping in a coffin for several years. Well, that's all the time we have, Vincent. Thanks for coming by and clearing things up.  
  
VV: Been a pleasure, like always. 


	4. Unrecorded

The unofficial album.  
  
'Unrecorded,' with an introduction by Cid Highwind  
  
The collected works of Vincent Valentine, never before released.  
Double CD set.  
  
(Not including 'The Phoenix is Down.' Or, 'Red, White, and Reefer,' due to their unavailability.)   
  
'Unrecorded,' the unofficial Vincent Valentine album side one, includes:  
1. Something Evil This Way Comes  
2. Know  
3. Black River Styx  
4. Flying  
5. The House That Nobody Lives In  
6. The Woman in the Red Dress  
7. Tomorrow Never Knows  
8. Sunny Days  
9. Four Way Yield  
  
Side two:  
  
1. Minotaurs  
2. Glitter Gown  
3. White Head Light  
4. Too Bad Troubles  
5. Infinity and Eternity  
6. Thank You.  
7. Objects in Heart May Seem Softer Than They Appear  
  
  
  
AN INTRODUCTION BY: CID HIGHWIND  
  
Ahem. Now, I don' know why they asked ME to write an introduction for this stinkin- er, I mean, Valentine's CD set. I never knew he even was a $!%$@# musician! Burns me up inside that I never knew!!!  
Now, mind ya'll, this is the first time I 'eard his music, and... it's...  
  
It's nice, it really is.  
  
See, It reminds me of a play I once saw back when I was in the Airforce. The play was called, "Loveless." Now, I don't know anythin' about arts, or high-society, or none of that, so, that's why I'm not sure what to say. In times like these, the most sensible thing to do, 'n Sheila taught me this, (Sheila's m' fiancée now, ya see,) but anyways, where was I? Oh. Yeah. Uh, My introduction. I got a bit off-track. $!%$^%#.  
Valentine. He's a good guy. Lil quiet, but, that's a good thing. I respect quiet. His, uh, record, uh, 'Unrecorded,' really speaks a lot for him. More 'n he ever spoke in real-life. I think that some of it, I can even relate too. Stuff a man don' really talk about. Deep stuff. Feelin's and stuff. Like, well, I won't spoil it fer ya, but, uh, his music is quiet. Some of it's even weird. But, it's all Valentine, it certainly is. Dark, 'n, stuff.  
But, uh, that's it! $^%#@^%# I'm done with this $#^&^%$# introduction!  
I'm not no good at writin', anyway.  
Deep-self expression is Valentine's field!  
  
Cid Highwind  
  
  
  
Something Evil This Way Comes  
(Featured in 'Under The Guiltless Sun' Classical guitar)  
  
Hmm.. hmmm...  
She came in through the window,  
She came in through the sea,Oh, with the wind she blow,  
Just to come and see me.  
  
Her eyes were sky blue,  
Her skin white, and her hair gold,  
I gave her my heart, hoping she would be true,  
But like the sea, her soul was cold.  
  
Hmm.. hm.  
Please beware of a woman's way,  
They come to kill.  
Like a passing cloud, they never stay,  
Perhaps it is a sick thrill.  
  
But it is this chase,  
That I love the fun.  
This endless race,  
My quest for love is never done.  
Something evil this way comes.  
  
  
  
Know  
(Featured in 'Under The Guiltless Sun' Classical guitar)  
  
Know I am not a star,  
But, know I am not far,  
  
Know that I am a night,  
But know that I am not here to fright.  
  
Know that I am as gentle as a tear,  
But I am not here for you to weep, my dear.  
  
Softer than a friendly smile,  
Empty as a poor man pocket,  
Together, we make it from my house to yours,  
Down that long lost road.  
  
From my house, to yours,  
There are tears instead of laughter,  
From my house to yours,  
There are fears instead of, hey, hey, honey, what's the matter?  
  
Are you scared?  
  
Know that I am not a long pink scar,  
But know that I am not very far  
  
Know that I am as lost as a lonely man,  
But I am not so far, as to forget to lend a hand.  
  
Colder than an stranger's shrug,  
We all need to reach out an offer a hug,  
  
Come on, let's travel that dusty gray road,  
From my house to yours,  
Let's recompense,  
This long lost friendship,  
We forgot so many years before.  
  
Those memories of fights,  
And endless arguing nights,  
Giving you the chills,  
  
Friendship has those hills,  
It's something that kills.  
  
Forget those thrills.  
  
Know that I'd do anything for you.  
But know all it takes is the road,  
From my house to yours.  
We can forget who kept the scores.  
  
Know that I love you.  
But know that it is WE who choose,  
Who's here to win,  
And whose friendship we loose.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Black River Styx  
(Featured in 'Under The Guiltless Sun' Classical guitar)  
(A cover by Vincent Valentine)  
  
Oh... death, I reckon you stalk.  
Oh... oh! Death, it's you I know, though I can't see,  
Please just go and leave me be!   
Oh, death, your ice cold hand, and old bone white face,   
It's like something familiar that I can't place.   
Oh, death, oh death! Down that river Styx, though no one can tell,   
I know that river leads to hell!   
Oh, death. Oh, my lord and death! Don't do this to me!  
Don't let me die and send me to hell,  
I know that I have not lived my life well.   
I know that if I die,   
No one would be there to hear me cry!   
Oh, lord, I plead for my life,   
Just let me live one more day o' strife.  
Oh... death, Oh, my dark death... The shadow is upon me,   
Please don't let me die and hear my plea.  
Fine. You win. I'll take your hand, just don't let me fall,   
Please let me stand. Oh. Death, my Savior comes,   
Down this river to where I'm from.   
Oh, oh death, together we die,   
But I will fall instead of fly.   
O... death. Oh... death... oh death, we die.  
  
  
  
Flying   
(Featured in 'Under The Guiltless Sun' Classical guitar)  
  
Your getting in too deep,  
You have been living in the sky  
Poetry drips in your sleep,  
And you forgot to teach me how to fly.  
  
Through solid air we move,  
Hand in hand, to the castle door.  
You, I think it's destiny who choose,  
Weather we win or loose, weather we hit the sky or the floor.  
  
Teach me, I want to learn to fly.  
I want to kiss a movie star,  
I don't want to be buried. I don't want to stop and die.  
Come on.   
We have made it this far...  
  
  
  
  
  
The House That Nobody Lives In  
(Featured in 'Under The Guiltless Sun' Classical guitar)  
  
There is a house in my heart  
That nobody lives in  
Nobody at all.  
  
It withstands the cold nights,  
The bloodlusting vampires,  
And the lack of light  
  
But it can't withstand your words  
Your senseless acts of forgetfulness  
And these lonely dreams of love  
  
The house that nobody lives in  
Lives in my soul  
It lives beside the hole,  
That weeps all the blood from my veins  
  
...And I try to contain,  
This despair that I disdain,  
  
And I try!  
I...  
Try...  
Not to cry.  
  
You say you will  
But you don't.  
You say that you will try,  
But you can't.  
  
And it's this house that we live in that suffers most.  
This house that you and I met and grew.  
This house that our relationship  
Drew.  
  
It's this house that nobody lives in,  
That weeps a thousand oceans more,  
It's this house that nobody lives in,  
That bleeds a thousand lonely score,  
It's this house,  
That nobody lives in,  
That doesn't turn on the light,  
  
To the empty outside night.  
  
  
The Woman in the Red Dress  
(Featured in 'Under The Guiltless Sun' Harmonica. Blues beat.)  
  
  
She's an evil, evil woman.  
I'm convinced she's the devil.  
  
Little red dress,  
Long golden hair in tress,  
  
She's an evil, evil woman.  
I'm convinced she's the devil.  
  
I met her when she was perched,  
On the barstool like a gargoyle.  
When I saw her I searched,  
For a way out.  
But with her pouty lips, my plans, man, she foil.  
For men everywhere, I pray, and I scream and I shout!  
  
She's an evil, evil woman,  
And... I'm convinced, she's the devil!  
  
  
We spent a night together,  
And she ain't innocent in bed.  
And I wished that it would last forever!  
But the love- it was all in my head.  
  
She's just an evil- evil woman!  
And oh, lord, I'm convinced, that she is the devil!  
  
She stole my heart,  
She stole my soul,  
She stole my wallet,  
And myself as a whole.  
  
She's an evil, evil woman,  
And I'm convinced, that she's the devil!  
  
Oh lord, how could you make such a creature,  
With perfect eyes, and innocent features,  
  
Oh... oh... lord! She is an evil, EVIL woman,  
And I am convinced. That she is.   
The devil.  
  
D-E-V-I-L  
That spells,  
Evil, evil...  
  
Woman!  
  
  
Tomorrow Never Knows  
(Classical guitar)  
  
  
Tomorrow never knows,  
Which way the river flows,  
It only goes,  
Whatever way we chose.  
  
I sailed my ship,  
Guiding through the sea.  
The darkness is thick,  
And I am alone. Only me.  
  
The wind blossoms my sails  
And it blows,  
Hilly are my triumphs, and my fails,  
This river is fate, where we go,   
Tomorrow never knows.  
  
I know where I wish to head,  
From the cradle, to the grave,  
My heart, it deeply bled,  
And no god for my soul to save.  
  
As I wander on this river,  
My thoughts dream of home.  
A tear wanders down my cheek a sliver,  
And other waters I wish to roam.  
  
On this boat that is my body,  
The rivers darkness is wide,  
The thunder bright, and troubles are cloudy  
I wait until we reach the river tide.  
  
Then, I will be free,  
Someday I will see home,  
Learning to be content is the key.  
Softer than sea foam.  
  
Until then, it is this river we wander,  
How we all long for a map, or an end.  
Sometimes, we wish for the journey to be longer,  
It always seems just around the river bend  
  
Tomorrow never knows,  
Which way this river goes.  
  
  
Sunny Days  
(Harmonica. Blues beat.)  
  
Sunny days,  
Have come and gone.  
  
Oh...  
  
Sunny days,  
Have come and gone.  
  
The clouds over head,  
Have filled my heart with dread.  
  
Oh...  
  
Sunny days,  
Have come and gone.  
  
Oh...  
  
Sunny days,  
Have come and gone.  
  
Oh...  
  
These days,  
I feel my soul is dead.  
  
Oh...  
  
Sunny days have come and gone.  
  
  
Four Way Yield  
(A beat. Vocals, without guitar. To be read in more of a fast paced talk, or performance piece of poetry.)  
  
These streets are paved with everything but gold.  
I see myself in a reflection,  
In a puddle,  
On a road out in the middle of nowhere,  
Which would be anywhere.  
  
I don't know.  
Maybe it's me.  
  
And I tell her, I tell her, I says,  
"Honey, close the door! Your letting the home out!"  
  
And she says to me,  
"I don't know,   
Hon,   
Maybe it's me."  
  
Maybe it's her.  
Everywhere becomes nowhere  
When we are wanderin' and not lost.  
The price of love cost,  
Is sometimes too much to pay.  
  
"After all," She tells me,  
"I don't just want your time, sex, and soul."  
  
I told her that I'd give her everything,  
If she's settle for nothing at all.  
I don't know.  
Maybe it's me.  
  
Maybe it's just that everyone is too hard to please.  
  
Maybe it's just too hard to believe in   
Nothing.  
Nowhere.  
Everywhere.  
  
But I believe in everything,  
So it's ok.  
  
I was young when I started looking for a sojourn   
For me to stay.  
  
Then I discovered a four way yield   
On the crossroads of life.  
  
I hesitated at every turn everywhere.  
While I was out in the middle of nowhere.  
Finally I was happy,  
  
But everywhere is nowhere.  
  
And nowhere is everywhere is everything and nothing is something afterall.  
  
I...  
Don't...  
Know.  
Maybe...   
It's...  
Me.  
  
I.  
Just.  
Want.  
To.  
Be.  
Anywhere.  
  
She says to me, she says,  
"Your just a dramatic face in the crowd!"  
  
And I tell her, I tell her, I says,  
"To be a dramatic face   
I'd need a place,  
To exist. I'd need a pair of eyes,  
Full of cries,  
And need to take care of those un-expected good-byes!"  
  
Now wouldn't I?  
  
Then, she tells me,  
"Honey, our love is full of lies!"  
  
I said, "Sweetie, just tell me where,  
If you please,  
Where I can find,  
Anywhere- where I can be everything to everyone,  
All the time, everywhere."  
  
She said,  
"My love,  
I think that place is called nowhere."  
  
I don't know. Maybe it's me.  
  
  
Disk Two.  
  
  
Minotaurs  
(Vocals. No instruments. Odd noises in the background.)  
  
Living room suicide dark creeping  
Thighs under the bed-sheet  
Re-write Levies  
Letting it all  
  
Go   
  
Down  
  
Down  
  
Down  
  
The bottomless pit.  
  
Jesus shaves his goatee off his freckled skin,  
Leave us in the dirty hamper bin.   
Oh my god! Watch him die on the cross!  
How's it hangin'?  
  
Cherry blossom pecan Buddha rounded with a jolly smirk  
Stern suffering is the route to freedom. My mother told me never to swear in-front of the   
Pope.  
Dope,  
  
Dope dawg G-money ho down and dirty!  
  
Pimp, limp, fuck her in the stab wound I gave her in the thigh-high knee-sock.   
Funny little cartoon crackers drowned in a drive-by shooting by Hee-Haw Fat Albert's heart attack. Incoherent, decongestant, re-possessing, incandescent. Buy sell consumers out in a rich poor lawyers suing lawyers, in the black on black crime rate low in these poor,   
Poor  
Poor  
Children  
Die  
Baby  
Death  
Mommy  
Suicide  
Note.  
  
Never could get  
  
In and out of my drawers in the labyrinth   
That is a maze in a puzzle   
On a riddle  
In a conundrum  
With an enigma   
In it's center.  
  
  
Glitter Gown  
(Classical guitar)  
  
Glitter gown  
Down the expressway  
Seeking which way  
To turn and  
Sway  
Glitter gown  
Down the steps to hell.  
Step lightly  
Step lively  
Down the  
Expressway  
To hell.  
Glitter gown  
Down down  
Down  
Down to the pitfalls  
Down the expressway  
To hell.  
  
White Head Light  
(Classical guitar)  
  
I hear it coming.  
Maybe it will not see me.  
Maybe I should start running  
It never has mercy on my plea.  
  
I see the smoke.  
Maybe this time it will pass me by.  
I choke.  
I wish that this time I will not die.  
I wish that I had wings to fly.  
  
It races along the tracks.  
It has been looking to find me for a while now.  
It's sad, white head light, and wheels full of cracks,  
This train is depressed, though, I know not how.  
  
And when he comes to find me alone here,  
To run me over, to smite me hard,  
Along the tracks, my soul will boldly smear,  
In colors of bleach bone, stain red, and my heart to discard.  
  
I will already be dead.  
I have died long ago before this  
With a severed heart, with a decapitated head.  
Sadness steals without a kiss.  
  
And the train continues to run,  
Along the tracks with a sad white headlight.  
Delivering sadness before the sun is gone.  
It hits with a blow to filled with might.  
  
Too Bad Troubles  
(Harmonica.)  
  
There are things we say, and can't undo.  
It's too bad that,  
You believe things that are untrue.  
It's too bad that,  
  
There is nothing I can do.  
  
Hmm... hm.  
  
Cloud of sand,  
The blare of the band,  
I ask you to take my hand.  
  
These too bad troubles,  
Stain my veins,  
When we are sad,  
We stand in the rain.  
  
Hmm. Hmm..  
  
So far is the sun.  
It's too bad that,  
Things between us are left undone  
It's too bad that,  
We ain't got much time.  
  
These two bad troubles,  
  
Are your heart and mine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"A Years End" ("Infinity and Eternity")  
(Classical guitar. A Vincent Valentine cover.)  
  
Yesterday,  
We dance in the sun's ray.  
Today,  
Everything will be okay.  
Tomorrow,   
The weather forecasts  
Sorrow.  
  
  
January, February,   
The forecasts calls for  
Us all to be merry.  
  
March, April, May  
I wish I could say,  
I love you every day.  
  
Yesterday,  
We dance in the sun's ray,  
Today,  
Everything will be okay.  
Tomorrow,   
The weather forecasts  
Sorrow.  
  
June,  
It's time for a blue moon.  
I wish that death wouldn't part us,  
So soon.  
  
July, August, September,  
That's all that I can remember,  
Too bad the weather,  
Drifts in the air,  
Away, float away like a feather.  
  
Yesterday,  
We dance in the sun's ray.  
Today,  
Everything will be okay,  
Tomorrow,  
The weather forecasts   
Sorrow.  
  
October,  
Promise me now,  
Forever or never  
Infinity, eternity,  
Destiny,  
We were meant to be.  
  
November, December,  
Death can bring us through  
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow,  
Our past, our present, and our future,  
For me, and for you, it brings us to completeture.   
  
Yesterday,  
We dance in the sun's ray  
Today  
Everything will be okay,  
Tomorrow,  
The weather forecasts for  
Sorrow.  
  
Summer, spring, winter autumn,  
Forever and ever in a cycle,  
We head to the top, only to fall to the bottom.  
  
  
"Thank You"  
(Classical Guitar)  
  
There was a time when I used to care.  
Let me be honest,  
I don't anymore.  
  
She said,   
"Honey, let's just be friends,  
Honey,  
I don't have time to make amends,  
It's time to  
Move on."  
  
Hm hm.  
  
Thank you,  
For breaking my heart.  
  
Holes.  
Holes in my head,  
Holes in my soul,  
Holes driving me,  
Out of control.  
Hello, hello,  
Loneliness,  
Goodbye,  
Sweet hugs, simple kiss.  
  
Hm hm,  
  
Thank you,  
For breaking my heart  
  
There are so many ways,   
Of saying good bye,  
The best way I know how,  
Is to say hi,  
To a new love, now.  
  
Hm hm.  
Thank you   
For breaking my heart  
  
You gave me a way,  
Of getting a new start.  
  
Oh, oh,  
Thank you,  
For breaking my heart.  
  
  
Objects in Heart May Seem Softer Than They Appear  
(Classical guitar)  
  
  
  
Gently,  
  
Ever so gently,  
  
I touch you on your face.  
  
  
It only seems so soft,  
  
Under the moon light grace.  
  
I wonder who,  
  
Will take my place.  
  
There are three leaves left,  
Waiting to fall,  
And then,   
Winter will come to call.  
  
My heart,   
Is frail.  
Please handle it carefully,  
Or it will shatter,  
Inconsolably,  
I will weep,  
Uncontrollably,  
The evil will seep,  
Soaking like a sponge,  
Into my eyes,  
All the lies,  
And all the shadows,  
Walking,  
Like dead men,  
In a line,  
Across the grave,  
  
Holding candles,  
Wearing darkness,  
As if it were shrouds.  
  
So please,  
  
Let me wonder,  
  
When I touch your face,  
  
Will you recoil?  
  
And do not break my heart.  
  
For if you do,  
  
It will crack,  
  
Like thunder. 


	5. Tune Times

An Interview with Vincent Valentine  
  
INTRODUCTION BY TIFA LOCKHEART  
  
After my half brother's untimely... uhm, after he passed, there was very little things of his remaining. All there really was, was a memory, and his album. Because, even his coffin was turned to ash. There was nothing left.  
Well, I found out a little later, after his wake, that there was a interview made when his album came out. There were two interviews, with him, actually, one big one with Phoenix-something, and one small one made by a small music-magazine.  
After his death, it was re-published.  
The only other real publicity he had, besides the two interviews, was that time when he was on the Conan O'Brien show.  
But, that was his fame-fall-out. He only has a small cult following, it's grown a little since his death. There was a re-mix of a song, he did, I think, and those two other albums, but they had no right to put those out. He had nothing to do with them.  
So, here is that small article- re-published. It's a mini-interview, taken just when "Nightmares Under the Stairs" came out.  
  
~Tifa Lockheart  
  
  
"Tune Times Magazine"  
First published in 1988  
Copyright Tune Times  
  
"An Interview with Vincent Valentine"  
Written By: Rose Walker  
  
RW: Here with me today is folk legend, Vincent Valentine. He has just released his first album, "Nightmares Under the Stairs." It's genius for it's simple, beautiful sound, with his voice and a classical guitar. Now, Vincent, why do you play a classical guitar with your music, and not a regular acoustic. What's the real big difference?  
  
VV: Well, a classical guitar IS a acoustic, but of a different lot. The difference is, here, let me show you. *Takes out guitar.  
See, the neck of a regular acoustic is thinner than a classical, and they have softer strings. Because the neck is thicker on a classical, you can't possibly wrap your hands around it. So, you hold it differently, not using your thumb at all. On a regular one, you would use your thumb. Also, on a classical, you hold the neck up near your head, and prop up your left knee to get proper leverage. On a regular, you hold it horizontally. Ultimately, the sound you get is softer, more delicate. Sort of like Flamenco guitar. On a regular, you would just strum out bland chords and melody.  
  
RW: I see. Interesting. Will you play something for us?  
  
VV: Certainly.   
Vincent begins to play and sing a song which is not an any recorded album.  
  
  
  
Love is but a empty vase.  
One with which is too cracked to use.  
It is impossible to place,  
When love began it's heart to choose.  
  
Life is but a 'nother word,  
For so many others,   
Nothing comes to mind,  
To describe   
The absurd.  
  
  
  
Je ne vois qu' infini   
Par toutes les fenetres  
(Through all windows,  
I see only infinity)  
  
Quel' che tu si I sec'   
Qul' che I' son' a' devend.'  
(What you are, I was,  
What I am, you will be.)  
  
  
Yes, love is but a fruit tree,  
One that planted roots within me.  
I see,  
What you will be,  
Because you have already been set free.  
  
  
  
L'odeur du silence es si vielle  
(The odor of silence is so old)  
  
L'amour n' est pas consolation  
I' est lumiere  
(Love is not a consolation, it is a light)  
  
Le coeur a ses raisons,  
Que la raison ne connait point.  
(The heart has it's reasons, of which reason knows nothing.)  
  
  
Hm hm,  
Plant in me, o wild fruit tree,  
For it is the love we need.  
Nothing, is, nothing was, nothing will be,  
If this nothing becomes the love to me.  
  
Dans le doute, mon cher,  
Abstiens- toi.  
(When in doubt, friend, do nothing)  
  
Dans le doute, mon cher,  
Abstiens- toi.  
(Repeat)  
  
  
RW: That was beautiful, Vincent. I see what you mean about the classical guitar having a lighter sound. What was that, French?  
  
VV: A little French, yes. And a bit of everything else.  
  
RW: Do you speak any other language?  
  
VV: I speak French, and English, of course.  
  
RW: Fluently?  
  
VV: Yes. My mother taught me before she died, and before I ran away.  
  
RW: I see. Well, unfortunately, that's all the time we have. Thanks for coming in for the interview with Tune Times.  
  
VV: My pleasure.  
  
~End 


End file.
